


Dean/Cas February Challenge

by Freckled_Halos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 8,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Halos/pseuds/Freckled_Halos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I challenged myself with a new word for each day in February in which I had to write or draw something DeanCas. I was a few days short due to personal issues, but these are the ficlets I wrote this month! The missing days are from things I drew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

I challenged myself with a new word for each day in February in which I had to write or draw something DeanCas. I was a few days short due to personal issues, but these are the ficlets I wrote this month!

The missing days are from things I drew.


	2. Day 2: Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (major character death in this chapter only!)

A clatter echoes throughout the abandoned alley as a knife is knocked out of Dean’s hand. With wide eyes, Dean looks from the knife back to the ferocious female djinn who just kicked him in the stomach. Dean wraps his left arm around his midsection, trying to fight off the pain. He hears Castiel behind him, slashing at the djinn’s partner before a final “harrumph” from Cas and a heavy slump onto the ground confirms the killing. The djinn facing Dean is now seething, her eyes and hands lighting up. Dean tries to regain his footing and prepares to fight her, but instead of heading for him, she reaches for the knife.

Grabbing the wooden handle, she takes a step towards Dean and forcefully drives the blade deep into the side of Dean’s gut and slashes quickly across his middle. He can hardly gasp before he’s doubled over on the concrete.

“DEAN!” Cas calls as he runs towards the djinn and slices her neck with his lamb blood-covered dagger. “Dean!’ Between the two dead djinn, Castiel kneels next to Dean, repeating his name in broken cries.

With shaky hands, Cas strokes Dean’s whitening face before trying to put pressure on the gaping wound, now slowly but steadily bleeding out. “It’s okay, love, you’ll be okay,” He keeps repeating, but Cas isn’t sure he believes himself and Dean’s too incoherent to deny it.

Tears cloud Castiel’s eyes and pour in thick droplets down his face. He blinks to clear his sight, but is soon swimming in them again. He tries not to make noise, but a loud sob quickly escapes his mouth as a ghostly touch brushes his hand. Dean’s trying his hardest to grip Cas’ trembling hands, to calm him down, but he can’t find the strength.

Cas puts one of his hands on Dean’s and squeezes as hard as he can. “I’m so sorry,” he croaks out. “I can’t…I can’t heal you. I can’t, I can’t…”

Dean coughs and whispers a breathy, “’S’okay, Cas.”

Somehow, hearing the words causes Cas to break even more and he loses himself in sobs. Before the fall, Cas could have healed Dean with one touch and they’d already be on their way back to the bunker. Now, Dean will die in a cold alley at midnight, just outside of Chicago, and it’s all Castiel’s fault.  

A deep part of Cas’ brain realizes that his hands aren’t helping and he slowly brings them up to Dean’s face. Right away, Cas can feel the blood and insides of Dean’s belly speeding up their exit from his body.

Cas doesn’t want to dirty Dean’s face, but he can’t help but stroke his cool cheeks for the last time. “I love you,” Cas whispers. “I love you so much.”

Dean pulls the tiniest of smiles, but it’s all he can force his mouth to do. He wants to say it back, over and over again, but all he does is close his eyes, focusing on the touch of Cas’ warm hands on his cheeks.  


	3. Day 4: Smell

The room was dark and still. It had probably been an hour or so after Dean had turned off the lights and kissed him goodnight, but Castiel still wasn’t asleep. Sighing, Cas burrowed his face further into Dean’s raggedy Guns N’ Roses t-shirt. The rise and fall of Dean’s chest was steady, but Cas couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not.

“Dean?” Cas whispered, nearly incoherently.

“Yes?” Dean replied. It didn’t sound like he had been sleeping.

Cas was glad he hadn’t awoken Dean with such a silly thought to share. He continued, “I never really noticed this before.”

“What’s that?”

“Scent.” Cas shifted awkwardly.

“What, like 50 Cent?” Dean chucked to himself and Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed.

“No, Dean. I mean smells. Before, everything was…formulaic. I could pinpoint each and every molecule and ‘ingredients’ of a smell, so they were never very enjoyable. I never understood when you’d talk of the aroma of a fresh baked pie or…how you miss your mother’s perfume…”

Dean swallowed hard before adding, “And now?”

“Now…” Cas sighed. “Now I understand. There’s such a connection, such an electricity in how my senses are attached to my emotions. It’s a little concerning.”

Dean chuckled again and wrapped his arms tighter around Cas’ shoulders. “Welcome to humanity,” he grumbled.

Castiel paused and for a moment he thought Dean had finally fallen asleep. “But, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“I just want you to know that I find your scent the most appealing of them all.”

“Oh?” Dean smiled. “You like this homemade blend of shitty deodorant, guns and cars?”

Cas rolled his eyes and took a sniff of Dean’s t-shirt, grazing the tip of his nose along the base of Dean’s neck, causing him to shiver. “You smell of worn, cracked leather. You’re spicy, but with an undertone of citrus. There’s gunpowder there, but only slightly, masked by the bright and sweet. You smell as if your work and toil is all overpowered by the good in you.”

Dean was quiet for a few seconds before finally responding with, “There’s no way you can tell all that by a ratty old shirt.”

“Perhaps.” Cas smirked. “But I do know with certainty that it’s the greatest smell in the world.”  

Dean kissed the top of Cas’ head and murmured. “Well I really like the soapy, laundry smell that you have. It’s like you’ve always just gotten out of the shower, but after being around a campfire.”

Castiel was glad Dean wasn’t able to see him blush. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Now. Focus on my hero smell and go to sleep.”

Cas laughed into Dean’s chest and settled himself. “Goodnight, love.”

“’Night, baby.”


	4. Day 7: Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I love this style of dialogue so much. I’ve written a fic like this before and I just think it’s so free to do. I hope the intent comes across—)

“…hello?”

“Hey.”

“Dean?

How did you get this number?”

“I…have my ways.

 

How are you?”

 

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you safe?”

“As safe as I ever am.”

 

“Any news?”

“A little. I have a lead, but…”

 

“Cas?”

 

“I just miss you.”

“I miss you too, man.”

 

 

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s moody and pissed at me still, but…

he’s here. He’s safe.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.

 

Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Just…

 

take care of yourself, alright?”

 

“Alright.

You too, Dean.”

“Yeah.

Okay.”

 

 

“I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas. I’ll…

I’ll talk to you soon?”

 

 

 

 

“…yes.”


	5. Day 9: Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Headcanon-heavy and inspired by Cas’ pimp car blasting rap haha)

With a gentle finger, Dean lifted the needle of his tabletop record player. “So?” He asked Cas as he slipped the vinyl back into its sleeve.

Cas sat cross legged on Dean’s bed, his eyes squinted and brows furrowed. “It’s alright.”

Dean paused. “Alright?” He scoffed. “ _Alright?!_ It’s Zeppelin, man! I—” He stopped, shaking his head, placing the album back into its spot on the shelf.

“You don’t like any of the music I enjoy.” Cas stated, picking at a loose string on his left sock.

“That’s because ‘Nicki Minaj’ is not music. I swear, you and Sam have the worst taste.” Dean turned to face Cas, arms crossed.

“Surely there’s something we can agree on.”

“How about AC/DC?”

“Too screechy.”

“Too sc—do you happen to recall _your_ voice the first time you tried to talk to me? You broke glass!”

“Oh please.” Cas flipped a hand towards Dean and laid back on the bed. “What about Kanye West?”

“Douchebag.” Dean walked over and sat next to Cas. “Guns n Roses?”

“Too high pitched.”

“Again, broken glass, bud.”

Cas shot an amused glare at Dean before asking, “Beyonce?”

“No. Cas, come on, man.”

Flying up to a sitting position Cas laughed, “ _Please_ , Dean, I’ve _seen_ you sing along—”

“That’s a lie!” Dean blurted out, blushing, which made Cas laugh even harder.

He placed a warm palm on Dean’s cheek. “Oh, love, don’t be embarrassed.”

That only turned Dean’s face a deeper shade of red as he murmured, “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

Dean paused, looking at Cas who was staring up at him through dark eyelashes.

Though he rolled his eyes, Dean sighed, “fine.”   

Cas placed a playful peck on Dean’s lips in a show of surrender, resulting in more blushing on Dean’s part. “Good.”


	6. Day 10: Hero

Dean squinted his eyes, trying to see through the sheets of rain pouring outside a window of the greasy diner. His and Cas’ morning had been tiresome. Their questioning of a family, who was the victim of an angry spirit (probably), had led them nowhere. Plus, the dad was a complete jerk. With no actual leads and Sam trying to research back at the motel, Dean decided to stop for lunch. At that time, it was a beautiful, sunny day, not too cold, but not too warm either. However, right after Cas took the last bite of his hamburger, _bam_ , rain city.

“What are you looking at?” Cas asked gently.

“It’s raining.” Dean simply answered, running a hand down his face and lapel.

“Is that a concern for you?”

Dean paused. His suit was brand new and he didn’t know if the torrential rain would ruin it. It had been expensive—well, expensive for Dean—and after he bought it, he immediately felt guilty. It was a stupid splurge. His oldest suit was too small and another had holes in the pockets, so he felt it was time, but as much as he told himself that, he still felt selfish.

Cas’ eyes slid from Dean’s furrowed brow to his hand, still resting on the jacket’s lapel. Smiling sympathetically, Cas placed a hand onto Dean’s shoulder.

“Would you like to wear my coat? Just to the car?”

Dean’s head shot over to him. “No! No, man, that’s okay. It’s fine, I’ll just…” His eyes met the ground as he awkwardly shuffled around, stalling.

Easily slipping out of his coat, Cas held it out. After a few seconds, Dean wordlessly took it, draping it over his shoulders like a cape.

Cas strode over to the door in his white button up and held it open as Dean, blushing, walked out. The two of them jogged down the sidewalk to the diner’s parking lot, dodging deep puddles and dripping gutters. They quickly hopped into the Impala, already soaking wet. Cas failed at disguising a cold shiver and Dean returned the coat to him, noting how his own torso was completely dry. The engine roared to life as Dean turned the key and thick, heavy droplets of rain pounded on the roof. Inside the car, the sound was muffled and hollow. Before pulling out of the lot, Dean turned his head towards Cas, avoiding eye contact, his cheeks still pink.

“Thank you.”

Cas smiled. “Anytime.”


	7. Day 11: Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is a very loose interpretation, but it was the first thing that popped into my head. This is also a new style and I hope it works—!)

“I’m worthless,” he says.

You close your eyes.

“I’m nothing,” he says.

You try to fight tears as his voice breaks.

“I’m a mountain of shit.” He cries. “I deserve no one and I definitely don’t deserve you.”

You let the tears fall now, slamming a fist on your knee.

“Stop,” you say.

But he doesn’t and with every word he utters, every chip of himself he knocks away, a part of you stops living.

“Stop!” You yell, but he doesn’t. You reach out to him, but he pushes you away.

“I’m poison,” he brokenly weeps.

“I kill,” he cries.

“I’m death.”

And that breaks you into infinite tiny pieces and you try to put yourself together enough to say he’s wrong. You can’t blink away the tears and you need to say something. You can feel him floating away, his essence, his being, his soul. You need him. You selfishly, wholly, need him and you finally realize with such clarity how he needs you too.

“You are death because you bring so much light,” you finally say. “You are death because you relieve people of their pain and their sins. You are death because once you come into lives, no one is ever the same. You breathe newness into others. Death is not final, you know, and just as it is a new beginning, so are you. You save. You are not the finality and misery of death, but the light others see when they’ve given up hope.”

He stares at you through tears before collapsing into your chest, shaking and weeping, and you think maybe he’ll stay just a little while longer.


	8. Day 12: Free

Castiel prided himself in his assimilation into human culture, though sometimes Dean would say things that he didn’t understand. On one summer evening, the boys opened the bunker’s garage door, setting up chairs just at the threshold. Dean walked out of the bunker with three beers in tow and took a sip out of Cas’ before handing it to him.

“Opening tax,” he shrugged.

On a sleepy sunny morning in August, Cas was helping Dean make breakfast. Feeling mischievous, Cas dipped his finger in the pancake batter and plopped it onto Dean’s nose. Gasping, Dean whipped around and glared at Cas.

He laughed, “that’s gonna cost you.”

During a case in Louisville, Kentucky, Sam, Cas, and Dean were sitting in a fast food restaurant. While Sam was in the bathroom, Castiel snuck a hand across Dean’s thigh and into his lap. Dean jumped, clattering the empty trays on the table.

He cleared his throat, hissing, “you are going to pay for that later…in _full_.”

At midnight in winter, Cas was cuddled into Dean’s chest. The room was dark and still. Quietly, Cas stretched up to gently kiss Dean’s cheek. His eyes fluttered open as made their way to Cas.

“Hey.” Dean smirked.

“Does that require some kind of compensation too?” Cas pouted.  

Dean pulled Castiel tighter to him, rubbing his back. “Kisses…” he replied, “kisses are always free.”  


	9. Day 13: Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I tried not to make it as sad as it could have been…also i don't want it to seem like Cas is childish i just wanted to express his caring nature and parallels. I love the idea that Cas is so in tune with nature and animals and cares deeply for the earth, not that he's stupid and naive to the whole world)

“Dean, Sam, help!” Castiel’s voice drifted from the bunker’s entrance into the lounge where the brothers were resting. They rushed out to meet Cas in the foyer, panicked.

Dean’s eyebrows were bunched close together as he strode over to Cas, arms out, asking, “what’s wrong?”

Sam was wide eyed, scanning Cas up and down, glancing around the room to target any threats.

But it was just Castiel standing there, his arms tucked inside his coat sleeves, holding something to his chest. Dean gently pulled one of Cas’ arms away from his body, revealing a pitiful, ruffled blue jay lying in his cupped palm.

“I found it outside.” Cas mumbled. “It was on the ground. I think…I think one of its wings may be broken.”

Dean looked to Sam, searching for the correct way to handle the situation, though he didn’t have an idea either.

“Um…okay,” Dean started, placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Let’s, uh, let’s get it comfortable first.”

They walked into the kitchen where Dean pulled a silver mixing bowl and a few fresh towels from the cabinets and arranged them together in a nest-like form. Cas delicately laid the bird onto the towels.

“What do we do?” He asked quietly.

“I’ve set a few broken limbs in my time,” Dean smiled reassuringly. “Maybe wings are the same.”

Dean left the kitchen to grab the first aid kit, sighing at Sam on the way. Sam walked forward and wordlessly placed an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.

Moments later, Dean returned to the kitchen carrying a long bandage and tape.

“Let’s help a creature, gentlemen,” he announced, though was met with somber eyes.

“It’s too late.” Cas answered, looking from Dean to the bowl.

Sam tightened his grip on Cas’ arm. “It’s okay, Cas. We tried.”

“Yeah, bud. When it’s your time, it’s your time.” Though even saying it, Dean knew what a load of shit that was.

Cas nodded and stroked the sleek blue feathers.

The three of them found an old hat box in one of the storage rooms and arranged the blue jay inside. Sam smoothed the wings down, but Cas rebutted, spreading them as wide as the box would allow, one of them bent awkwardly. He mumbled, “it deserves this much.”

They went out the back of the bunker and walked a few feet into the woods. Dean scooped out a hole of dirt and Cas gingerly lowered the green and pink box into the ground. They covered it and spread some grass on top.

“Would you like to say anything?” Sam asked, looking at Cas.

He paused, eyes somber, before brokenly answering, “may he soar in heaven.”  


	10. Day 14: Hands

His hands

Are warm

And soft

Dragging along your spine.

His hands

Are ghostly,

Trailing

Over your heart.

His hands

Are strong

And comforting

As they press

Into the wound on your neck:

Literally

Holding the life inside of you.

His hands are dirtied,

Not only with

Grease

From your car’s loud engine,

But from his past,

His mistakes,

His pain…

Yet

They cup your face

Every day break

And twine into your fingers

Under every table you sit

And grip your hips

In the dead of night.

His hands

Are your home

And in them,

You live.


	11. Day 16: Tongue-Tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the first thing I thought was proposal fic ʘ‿ʘ)

Cas weaved his fingers into Dean’s and pulled him down the bunker’s hallway.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, noting that the lights had all been turned off. “Is everything okay?”

Turning, Cas smiled at Dean, murmuring something about surprises and patience. They approached the doorway to the kitchen and Cas paused, taking Dean’s shoulders in his hands.

“Close your eyes,” he said. Hesitating, Dean obliged. Castiel led him into the room, gentle hands on his upper arms.

“Alright, Cas, come on—” Dean fidgeted, starting to get anxious.

“Okay,” Cas replied, taking his hands off of Dean. “Open your eyes.”

Dean’s eyes blinked as they adjusted to the dim lighting. The only light illuminating the room was from candles placed around the room. The long steel table held tall, white, taper candles that had been placed into ‘40s era candlesticks that had been hiding somewhere in the building. There were two place settings on either side, one accented with a bottle of Dean’s favorite beer, still dripping with ice cold condensation, the other a glass of red wine. The plates were empty, though Dean noticed that the ovens seemed to be on. Castiel stood quietly next to the table.

“Surprise!”  

“What…is this?” Dean breathed, running a hand through his hair.

Cas stepped towards Dean and took his hands into his own. “It’s for you, love. Do you like it?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, yes, I…but why?”

Cas grinned, his eyes gentle and wide. “Because you deserve it.”

Dean cleared his throat again and fought back the lump forming there. He ran through a list of holidays in his head, trying to figure out if he was missing something. It wasn’t his birthday, or Valentine’s Day. Cas didn’t really have a birthday and the two of them didn’t have a specific anniversary either. The closest thing they had to an anniversary was Cas pulling Dean from Hell, but that wasn’t for months now. Dean did not deserve this and he began to panic. Was this some sort of last hurrah for Cas? Was he leaving?

“Dean? You’re very quiet.”

He took a few deep breaths and told himself to relax. “Sorry, bud, I’m just…surprised is all.” He managed to pull a smile, though Cas could tell it was less than sincere.

Castiel patted Dean’s bottom. “Sit!” He smiled before walking to one of the ovens, pulling out a tray of food that had been kept warm.

Dean cautiously sat down as Cas returned to the table and, using a spatula, placed a massive homemade cheeseburger onto Dean’s plate. From another tray, he then scooped a heaping pile of French fries, covered in chili and cheese next to the burger. He returned the trays to the oven after giving himself much smaller helpings and sat, eyeing Dean from around the candles.

Nothing came from Dean’s mouth as he sat in awe. Cas took a sip of his wine and laughed.

“Well?” Nodding at Dean’s food, Cas mused, “I thought it’d be gone by the time I started eating.”

Dean let out a hoarse chuckle. “I’m just…” His gaze fell to Cas’ eyes, genuine and glowing in the candlelight. “Thank you.”

The two men ate their dinner with comfortable conversation. They talked about everything that wasn’t hunting and Dean found it refreshing. They laughed easily and teased each other. Dean didn’t remember the last time he had a date (if that’s what you could call this), let alone one that was as comfortable as this. Everything with Cas felt right and good. They obviously had a shit ton of messy history, but it was in moments like these that Dean found himself forgetting all of that. Castiel had always been different, besides the fact that he was an angel of the Lord.

When it came to _love_ , Dean didn’t have the best track record. By no means was he any sort of romance guru, but sometimes, when he was laying with Cas in the middle of the night, Dean felt it. He felt the swell in his heart and the butterflies in his stomach. He felt calm and, God forbid, _happy._ It had never been that way with anyone else, he never felt at ease. Though he does worry tremendously about Cas, Dean had learned how to relax around him. It was never about men versus women or civilian versus hunter, it was always just about Cas. Castiel: the mass of celestial energy. The being that Dean was wholeheartedly in love with, whether he liked admitting it or not.

After they were both finished with their dinners, Cas sliced them each a piece of pecan pie Sam had helped him make. Dean finished the last sip of his third beer and beamed at Cas.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He murmured, grasping Cas’ hand on the table top.

He blushed. “There’s something else.” Castiel took his hand back and fumbled under the table.

“Cas…?” Worry bubbled up in Dean’s stomach again.

“I know you aren’t one for emotions,” Cas started, getting a small glare in return, “but since I’ve fallen, my human emotions have been quite overwhelming. All of this is new for me, Dean, and I am very glad you—and Sam—have been here to support me through it.” He let in a shaky breath.

“Dean…you have forever been in my mind and in my heart. Never have I felt anything like how I do when I’m with you. And…I know that—” Trembling, Cas slid a hand down his face. “I know that this may be silly, but I know human customs are important to you and…”

“What…?”

Castiel took a small jewelry box out from under the table and opened it with wobbly fingers. Inside was a modest silver band and Dean’s eyes widened.

“Dean Winchester…will you…can I ask that you…”

“Cas.”

“Dean.” Taking another deep breath, it seemed Castiel found his resolve. “I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, and beyond.”

Despite himself, Dean’s eyes prickled with tears. He stood, leaning over the table to kiss Cas hard on the mouth.

“Yes, Castiel. Yes, yes, yes.”  


	12. Day 17: Invisible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (nsfw text ho ho ho~)

Somewhere in his mind, Castiel knows this is wrong, yet he still stands in Sam and Dean’s moldy motel room, hidden from human sight. He knows he’s invading Dean’s privacy. He knows that if Dean found out, he’d be furious. And yet, he still stands.

He’s in a corner of the room. It’s dark, somewhere between three and four in the morning. Sam is fast asleep, breathing heavy and deep. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief at this, he doesn’t want any uncomfortable interruptions, which, again, feels sick and twisted in his mind.

Dean is lying on the bed opposite Sam, the blankets pulled up to his shoulders. He is silent in his actions and though Cas knows little of human tendencies, he is clever enough to deduce exactly what Dean is doing under the covers.

The quilt is pulled taught over Dean’s knees which are spread wide and low in front of him. One hand is in between them, the other running through his hair, down his chest and back again. Something in Castiel squirms.

Occasionally, Dean’s lower hand will resurface long enough for Dean to spit into it before it returns to the hot, sweaty tent of the bed. At first, Dean moves slowly. His eyes are closed and his lips are pressed together. His chest rises and falls evenly. This is when Castiel feels the largest urge to leave, though he doesn’t.

It doesn’t take long until Dean’s pace quickens, his shoulder nearly vibrating from the movements. His eyebrows are scrunched together and his eyes are squeezed shut and Castiel can feel the sense of urgency. He feels a burning desire, deep in his stomach, to touch himself too, to feel what Dean is feeling, but this is foreign to him and he doesn’t move, just stands against the wall nostrils flaring as he watches Dean with focused intent.

The movements are even faster now until suddenly, Dean stops, his hips bucking upwards. His jaw falls open, still silent, as his eyes squeeze further shut. His knees come together, then apart again before finally relaxing into the mattress. Dean runs his other hand down his face and peeks over at Sam, ensuring he’s still sound asleep, which he is.

Castiel feels strange. Not only because he knows he’s just invaded a very intimate aspect of Dean’s privacy, but also because he enjoyed it. He feels the urge to show himself, to repeat Dean’s actions, to do _anything_ to relieve this fiery pit in his gut, but the second Dean moves to wobble into the bathroom, Castiel disappears to somewhere far away, blushing, though he knows no one can see him.   


	13. Day 18: Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i have never played magic the gathering, but i heard about it from my high school drama director and it was the first not-fantasy thing that popped in my mind. hs au and mentions of dean not liking ‘megstiel’)

Dean wouldn’t say he’s _embarrassed_ necessarily, but when Castiel Shurley walks into Wednesday afternoon’s Magic: The Gathering Club meeting, he nearly gasps out loud. He can feel his ears reddening and hopes no one notices, but the look Charlie is currently giving him confirms that, yes someone is noticing. Hopefully Castiel won’t.

“Alright, team,” Garth stands at the front of the classroom and claps his hands together. “It looks like we have a new player today…” He motions towards Castiel, who waves at the room, and Dean sinks further into his seat. How in the world is _Castiel Shurley_ into Magic? Castiel might be the well-rounded valedictorian slash best high school kicker in the tri-state area who freaking volunteers on the weekends, but Dean never guessed he was a _geek_ too.

“Have you played M-T-G before, angel face?” Meg asks and Dean internally seethes at the way she’s looking him up and down.

“Oh, yes,” Castiel replies. “My brother and I play often.”

“Okay! Then let’s all get started. Last week we played all together, so why don’t we split up today?” Garth suggests and everyone mumbles in agreement.

It’s like Charlie knows exactly what Dean’s thinking because she beelines to Meg, asking to play with her before she can get her paws all over Castiel. Garth groups with Becky and Ash, and Ed and Harry sit together (like they’re ever separated), which leaves Dean and Castiel sitting alone on opposite sides of the room.

Castiel is the one to approach first and he’s smiling, walking confidently, but casually, to Dean’s desk.

“Hi, Dean,” he says like he has the fucking _right_ to say his name so easily (and beautifully).

“Hi,” is all Dean can say.

Castiel sits in the desk in front of Dean and spins the chair around. “It looks like we’re the last couple.”

Dean blushes again (damn it) and takes his cards out of his backpack. “Yep.”

They each shuffle their cards, Castiel shooting a playful glare, but Dean can’t meet his eyes. They draw their hands and, like a gentleman, Dean lets Castiel play first.

The longer the hour ticks on, the more Dean can tell that Castiel knows his shit. It’s an intriguing game and their life points are never too far apart in value. By the time the other players are finished with their games, Dean and Castiel are still playing and the others shift their chairs to watch. They pick sides, sitting behind their chosen player. Behind Dean is Charlie, Ash and Garth who are whispering and pointing suggestions.

Ed, Harry, Becky and (of course) Meg are gathered behind Castiel, murmuring to each other and to the blue-eyed boy. Dean grumbles. Harry and Ed had never liked him that much anyway and Becky is downright annoying, but seeing Meg hiss into Castiel’s ear and run her hands along his shoulders irks him. They continue playing, cards building up on the desk.

It’s five-fifteen when Dean plays his best hand and everyone knows it. It’s a killer and Dean smiles, looking Castiel square in the face for the first time the whole afternoon. He grins back at Dean and puts all of his cards down in defeat. He slaps his thighs and then rests his forearms on the desk.

“Well, Dean Winchester, it looks like you’ve beaten me.”

“It looks like it,” Dean replies, gathering up his deck and scratching the back of his head.

The spectators disperse and Dean can see Charlie out of the corner of his eye, waiting in the hallway.

“I’d like a rematch,” Castiel laughs and his eyes glitter at Dean.

“You’re on.” Dean thinks his cheeks might burst from how much he’s trying to hold back from beaming. “Same time next week?”

Winking, Castiel packs up his things and stands. “See you then.”  

And Dean feels like he just might faint.  


	14. Day 19: Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (more hs au~)

It’s in the dark of night, driving under orange street lights, that Dean truly realizes how loud the Impala really is. It’s Friday night and John got picked up by one of his old war buddies to go drinking and Sam was in the basement strumming on his guitar or reading or whatever it is that dork thirteen year olds do on weekends.

And Dean? He was currently one block down from Castiel Shurley’s house, parked under a thick oak tree, tapping his fingers on the Impala’s steering wheel, praying that he doesn’t draw any attention to himself. Dean is legally old enough to drive, however, if John hears he took the car out, Dean would be dead in a heartbeat.

He looks down the street, turning the engine off. What’s taking Cas so long? They had planned to meet at midnight exactly and Dean has a schedule to stick to. John usually stumbled his way into bed at four or five on nights he came home and it was crucial for the car to be back exactly where he had left it by then.

It’s twelve twenty when Castiel finally jogs down the sidewalk and squeaks open the Impala’s passenger side door.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean asks, staring hard at Cas who’s breathing heavy.

“Sorry. My dad was in his study typing so I had to get creative.” Cas buckles his seatbelt and smooths down his hair.

Dean rolls his eyes and turns the key, pulling out of the neighborhood.

“Where to?” He asks, eyeing Cas who’s staring out the window.

“Wherever,” is his reply and Dean rolls his eyes again.

“Well,” he turns down a side street that takes them past a park and the elementary school, “we still have about three safe hours, so…” he trails off.

“Let’s just drive around.”

Dean shrugs. He loves the freedom of driving, especially in the power of the Impala, so just driving around is fine with him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s with Castiel either.

They take a turn, passing more houses and the middle school (where Sam goes) and finally end up driving towards the outskirts of town, corn fields and farms whizzing by. Castiel rolls his window down. It’s April and the weather’s unusually warm for this time of year. Dean sneaks a look at him, Cas’ hair blowing across his forehead as he scratches at the bits of stubble on his jaw and cheeks. Dean can never get over just how attractive Cas is and how incredibly lucky he is to have him in his car most weekend nights.

“So how _is_ your dad?” Dean asks after a few minutes of silence.

Cas sighs. “Oh, you know. Distant. Crazy. The usual.” He smiles sadly at Dean, who completely understands what it’s like having a single dad, and not the kind that’s very good at it, either.

“And yours?” Castiel folds his hands in his lap.

“Distant. Crazy. The usual.” Dean repeats and Cas chuckles.

They talk more about their not-fathers and about their siblings. Sam’s almost done with seventh grade and was on the honor roll last semester. He’s in band and the debate club and has a fair amount of friends, which Dean is grateful for. Cas’ older brother Gabe is dicking his way through his sophomore year of college, but Mr. Shurley doesn’t even know he’s one hair away from being kicked out. Cas has a younger sister around Sam’s age, Anna, who’s incredibly smart and spunky, which, again, Mr. Shurley never notices.

There’s a lot about Castiel’s home life that Dean can relate to and he thinks that’s one reason they get along so well. With Cas, he never has to try. There’s nothing about his past he feels he needs to hide and though there are some parts of Dean he’s too scared to share with Cas, everything else has been said at one point or another. He figures those other scarier parts will come later…if they stay together after graduation.

The rest of their night together is spent talking, driving and laughing. (They only stop once for a make out break, which is a new record). It’s pushing the danger zone of five AM when Dean stops under their oak tree and kisses Cas goodnight. He watches, heart pounding, as Cas waves and jogs back to his driveway.

Dean smiles to himself as he pulls the car around, heading home. It doesn’t even matter if John catches him at this point, he thinks, any scolding he could get will be worth it, knowing he got to spend at least one more night with the greatest guy he could ever dream of.


	15. Day 20: Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (more hs au haha but super short this time)

Dean Winchester grabs at his stomach as wheezing laughs escape his throat. He leans back onto the brick outside of the school, sun streaming down onto his face.  

Castiel continues making gruff noises, imitating their chemistry teacher, trying not to smile at how much Dean’s enjoying it.

“Dude…” Dean gasps, “stop it, I can’t…!”

Cas makes one last statement, something mumbled about beakers and Bunsen burners before he too breaks into fits of laughter. They egg each other on and the more Castiel laughs, the more Dean laughs, until finally they’re doubled over in the grass, fighting for breath.

Dean sits up, wiping tears from his cheeks as Cas grabs a napkin from his plastic lunch bag, dabbing at his eyes. It’s only after Dean collects himself enough to see straight that he realizes that he might actually be in love with Castiel Shurley.


	16. Day 22: Here

In the depths of the bunker’s back hallways, it was hard to tell what time of day was without a clock on hand. Dean blinked his eyes open and smacked his lips together. Rubbing at his face, he guessed it was sometime in the late morning, as he felt surprisingly well-rested. Rolling over, his eyes settled on Castiel lying next to him, hands pressed together under his cheek, mouth open and breathing slowly.

If Dean was at all convincing, Cas would be far away from the bunker, from hunting, and certainly from anything angel-related, but Dean couldn’t find the right words (and Cas was a stubborn son of a bitch). It was selfish and cruel, but Dean simply couldn’t live without Cas by his side. In life’s hardened moments, when Dean would mutter the only three words he could gather up the courage to say, he meant it with every fiber of his being, yet, no amount of broken “I need yous” would ever be able to convey what he felt in his heart.

It was a constant back and forth in Dean’s mind. No matter what Castiel would say about _wanting_ to be there and _wanting_ to stay with him, he never felt secure. He was terrified of waking up in the morning to an empty room and no words of goodbye. It was the most constricting feeling and it stretched and pulled at Dean’s insides every goddamn day.

Inviting Castiel to sleep in Dean’s bed with him was some screwed up way of remedying the feeling that couldn’t be drowned in alcohol or covered with slashed monster blood.

It wasn’t about the longing for affection or the unexplained whispers of potential when their faces got infinitely close in a fight or on a pillow. It was about being there for each other. It was about waking up and instantly knowing that the other was there. It was about going to sleep every night with your best friend by your side. It was about comfort and safety and _need._ All of which, Dean cursed himself for feeling, but no matter what, seeing Cas’ disheveled head every morning brought threats of tears to Dean’s eyes and a heavy sigh of relief from his chest.


	17. Day 23: Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (day off, that is…)

“Any freak shows in the news there, Sammy?” Dean asked, shuffling towards the back of Sam’s head early on a Tuesday morning.

Sam turned and motioned to his laptop. “Nothing,” he replied, shrugging. “No angel news, no weird deaths, no freaky police calls, just…nothing.”

Dean pushed his lips out and nodded. “Alright. Sounds like we have a day off.”

Sam scoffed and turned back to the computer as Castiel waddled out of the back hallway of the bunker.

“Morning, Cas.” Sam smiled and Castiel grunted in return.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Dean greeted, pulling the disgruntled Castiel into his chest. Kissing his forehead he added, “we have no plans today. Anything you want to do?”

Cas pulled away, looking Dean in the eyes. “Oh. Um…”

Sam turned around again and said, “we could go out, stay in…it’s kind of our first real free day since you’ve stayed with us, Cas.”

Cas nodded and stepped away, grabbing onto Dean’s hand. “I don’t understand why I should decide.”

“New perspective,” Dean answered. “Sam and I have had our fill of…human activities over the years. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do? We can drive somewhere or…?” He squeezed Cas’ hand.

Castiel was quiet for some moments, thinking. Finally, he smiled and said, “I never get sick of watching animals.”

After some research, the boys found a wildlife reserve an hour away in Kirwin. After Dean and Cas got dressed and had breakfast, they all piled into the Impala and headed out. The sun was shining and the air was surprisingly warm. The drive was filled with easy laughter and conflicting music tastes. Much to Dean’s disgust, Sam and Castiel ganged up on him, lightheartedly yelling about how he always gets to choose the radio station which then resulted in soft rock and the hit songs that Dean hated being blasted through the car’s speakers.

Once at the reserve, the gang left the car, slamming the doors shut and entering the walking trail. They wandered along a creek, Dean and Cas linking pinkies as Sam took pictures of the landscape on his phone. Dean found nothing too exciting about watching ducks and squirrels and turtles, though seeing the calm wonder on Castiel’s face was worth it.

They were leaning on a bridge railing, Sam in the distance, arms slung over each other when Cas whispered, “it’s so enchanting.”

“What?”

“Nature. Just here in this small pocket of the world is such complexity. There is so much life right in front of us. Bacteria and plants and insects. Birds and mammals and the water and it’s all connected and they all help each other prosper.” His eyes glistened. “The world is wrought with horror and war and so much destruction, yet life goes on. And it’s beautiful.” Sighing, Cas turned to Dean, wrapping his other arm around his shoulders.

Dean held Cas, burying his face in his hair. Slowly, Castiel pulled back and gazed up at Dean, tears spilling onto his cheeks.  

“I feel like I’ve been drowning,” he croaked out, “and you’re the only thing keeping me afloat.” Dean cupped his face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs as his own eyes wetted.

“Cas—”

“Without you and without Sam, I don’t know who I would be or if I would even be alive. There are no words to…” His voice broke and Dean held Cas to him, cradling the back of his head.

Dean hummed words of comfort as Cas gripped at the back of his shirt. Separating, Dean kissed Cas’ forehead before dipping down and gently placing his lips onto Castiel’s. Cas pressed into the kiss, his heart racing as Dean’s tongue slipped into his mouth. Hot breaths escaped between them, lips languidly sliding around each other. Dean sucked on Cas’ tongue, resulting in a low moan from the fallen angel and Dean laughed.

“Alright, hot shot. Let’s find Sam before he comes to any conclusions.”

Castiel grinned as they wandered away from the creek, hand in hand.

“And, Cas?”

“Hm?”

“I am never going to leave you.”


	18. Day 24: Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (more hs/young adult au? i can’t figure out the timeline exactly…)

The windows of Mr. Shurley’s beat up ’85 Oldsmobile were rolled down and giving its passengers a cool breeze through the sticky summer afternoon. Dean Winchester had his right arm hanging out the window, tapping on the exterior of the car door.

“Where are you taking us?” He asked, turning to Castiel, who was sweating through his light green button up.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied, side-eyeing Dean.

The sun was low in the sky, still bright yellow, but mixed with tinges of orange, the sunset threateningly close. Dean laid his head back onto the seat and sighed. The wind played with the tendrils of hair at his forehead that weren’t plastered to his perspiring face.

“Well can we get there soon? It’s fucking hot in here.”

“Uh,” was all the answer that Cas gave.

They continued driving until the sun was kissing the horizon and the radio show hosts switched to the evening crowd. The air got slightly cooler and Dean looked over at Cas who was backlit by the setting sun. The light shone through his rich brown hair, turning the tips a rusty red. Dust floated through the illuminated air.

Checking his watch and laughing, Dean joked, “do you even know where you’re going?”

Cas didn’t reply and by the hard swallow he gave, Dean started.

“ _Do_ you even know where we’re going?”

“I thought I did,” Castiel said, pulling at his shirt collar before returning his hand to the brown steering wheel.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean sighed before throwing his head back again, closing his eyes.

“Well, shit, Dean, it’s not my fault!”

“We’re probably halfway through fuckin’ Nebraska by now.”

“ _Please,_ ” Cas scoffed, clicking the radio off.

“Do you have a map in here?” Dean asked, opening the glove box and rummaging around through the expired registration forms, gas station receipts and mints.

“It’s no use,” Cas mumbled, “it’s not like we have a reference point out here.” And he was right. They were deep into farm country with no street signs or commercial buildings in sight.

Dean shut the glove compartment and ran his hands down his face. “What was your plan anyhow?”

Castiel was silent for a few long moments.

“Well?”

Suddenly Castiel slammed on the breaks, pulling the car over into the dirt shoulder of the road, alongside a cow pasture. Turning the ignition, the car rumbled to a halt and the air was silent as Cas turned his body towards Dean.

“Don’t get mad at me.”

“I’m not—”

Cas held up a hand. “Dean. I just tried to plan a special afternoon and I’m sorry I ruined it.” There was an edge of sarcasm and bitterness in Cas’ voice and Dean was taken aback.

“That’s not…I’m not mad, I’m just…”

They both fell silent.

“You’re leaving soon,” Castiel whispered brokenly.

“If I had a choice, baby, I—” Dean looked down at his hands, wringing them together in his lap.

“I know, I know.”

“But basic training is only a few months and then I’ll be back…for a little while.”

Cas nodded, avoiding Dean’s eyes and wiped at his nose. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

Their gazes meeting was the breaking point for both of them and Cas’ tears glossed over his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Dean bit at his lip as he too, began to cry.

“I’m just going to be lost without you.”

Sliding over to the edge of his seat, Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulders and pulled him close. Cas’ arms wrapped around Dean’s neck and ran through his hair.

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean said into the hair above Castiel’s ear. “Don’t.”

“That’s like telling a fish not to swim,” Cas laughed and pulled back, kissing Dean on his way.

Dean smiled sadly and placed a hand on Castiel’s cheek. “I love you.”

Cas’ eyes widened and he let out a sigh before throwing himself back into Dean chest.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. Forever.”    


	19. Day 25: Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is really choppy but i just had to get it out. this is basically how i want the show to end. i may or may not have gotten teary-eyed thinking about it…)

**Chicago, Illinois, 2019**

All Dean could focus on was the coldness of the ground. Or maybe it was him that was cold. And the ground was actually warm? Wet. Yes, wet and warm. It was hard, too, and the room was dark. At least he thought it was a room, it didn’t feel like the outdoors. It was very quiet. He blinked, trying to gain eyesight, to gauge his surroundings. Objects and colors clouded into view. He was inside and it seemed to be some kind of warehouse. Turning his gaze sideways, he saw towering shelves of boxes and crates. Yes, a warehouse, but for what? He couldn’t remember.

Looking further, he saw something else on the ground. It was large and unmoving. Its face came into focus and Dean gasped what little breath he had.

“Sammy?” He rasped, trying desperately to reach a hand out. His voice was muffled and echoed in his head.

The body stirred and Sam turned his head a fraction towards Dean. “D-Dean?”

“Sam.” His voice was more solid this time, but still hollow sounding. “Sammy, what happened?”

“It’s done,” Sam breathed, trying with all his might to roll over. “Crowley and Abaddon—”

That’s right. In Crowley’s efforts to reclaim Hell, he had unleashed havoc on earth for the past two years. Demons possessing left and right while Abaddon’s forces killed for souls. It was Crowley’s Purgatory scheme all over again except instead of the monster realm, he refocused his attention on earth.  

And, naturally, Sam and Dean were trying to stop it.  

After Cas killed Bartholomew, his name popped back onto angel radio. Thousands of fallen angels looked to him to restore Heaven, which Cas felt the responsibility to fix. He had spent years fighting the rest of Bartholomew’s forces before even trying to defeat Metatron. It was a bloody, ferocious war that killed many angels and men, though Metatron was finally contained and Castiel was left to rebuild Heaven. He had spent the last year or so attempting just that trying to collect the souls that had been stuck in the veil for so long.

Cas wasn’t the new God, necessarily, but he was the closest thing and he vowed to commit the rest of his existence in maintaining peace upstairs. It was a full time job and though Dean understood that, it hurt to think about.

They hadn’t seen each other since April, 2014.

Dean wasn’t the same. He prayed still until his voice was hoarse and his eyes wet, but Castiel never came. Sometimes, a ‘secretary angel,’ as Dean called them, would pop down, hand Dean a written message from Cas, but that was all. This continued up until Dean became angry and resentful, around one year ago.

Now Dean blinked again, gasping for breath and realized he was getting colder. “Sam?”

Sam grunted.

“We’re dying.”

There was no response for some time and Dean was almost sure Sam was already gone until he heard: “Yeah.”

“We’re…too old for this.”

A choked sound came from Sam which Dean convinced himself was supposed to be a laugh.

“We go…we stay this time. Okay?” Dean whispered, choppy.

“Okay.”

“Together.” It took all the strength Dean had left in his body to raise his hand and clasp it on Sam’s arm.

A small tear trailed from the corner of Sam’s eye to his ear. “Together.”

“Love you, Sammy.”

Another tear fell. “Love you too, Dean.”

“See you there.”

And with that, Dean finally let go, and closing his eyes, he breathed his last breath.

***

Dean blinked his eyes open. It was daylight. He was in a forest and there was no sign of Sam. Dean called out to him, but there was no answer. Wandering along, his feet crunched on the dry leaves and sticks littering the ground.

“Hello?” He called again.

“Well, if it ain’t Dean Winchester!” A voice called from behind.

Dean spun around and his eyes widened.

“Ash?!”

“The one and only,” Ash replied, striding up to Dean. “Took you long enough,” he chuckled and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Come on, everyone’ll be waiting.”

“Everyone…?”

But Ash didn’t respond. He led Dean through a maze of woods before approaching a small wooden shed. Somewhere in Dean’s mind he recognized it from years ago. There were chalk symbols written on the door that Dean vaguely remembered, but above it was a small sign labeled, “The Roadhouse.”

“What—”

 When Ash swung the door open, it took all Dean had in him not to collapse right there. Standing in front of him was the Harvelle’s roadhouse and Dean recalled this as Ash’s heaven. But they weren’t alone. Inside was everyone. John, Bobby, Sam, _Mary._ Tears prickled at Dean’s eyes as everyone turned to him.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” his mom said, putting her arms out. Dean stepped forward and fell into them, clutching at her waist as if she would float away.

It was a strange kind of welcome party for Sam and Dean. Inside the roadhouse were hunters from all over as well as family and friends. It was sad, to think that they were all dead, but were they really?

Over the next hours, or whatever Heaven was measured in, Sam eventually found Jess and they spent even longer together, Sam explaining everything to her. They both cried.

Dean caught up with Jo, Rufus, Bobby, Kevin…but it was too much. Dean was glad to see everybody happy, but this was still new to him and it felt wrong and macabre. Pamela reminded Dean of what she had told him in the roadhouse years earlier: people died, but then they came here and was that so bad? They were all together again.

Dean nodded, not fully convinced and he thought to himself, _not everyone._

It was a while after Dean had arrived when there was a small knock at the door. The entire group was too busy laughing and drinking to hear it, but Dean looked over as the hinges squealed open. And he practically dropped his beer.

“Cas?” It had been years since Dean allowed himself to say the name out loud.

“Hello, Dean.”

Sam was in the crowd, though hearing the voices, he soon walked forward, hugging Castiel. Bobby saw and followed and even Mary all while Dean stood motionless against a bar table. Soon, the room was quiet and all eyes were watching Dean tensely.

“Dean—” Cas began, stepping forward.

“Don’t. Don’t.” Looking at the familiar outfit he had met Cas in, tears welled in Dean’s eyes. He fought them…to no avail.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” was all he could get out.

Cas looked down. “I know.”

By this point, tears were freely falling down Dean’s cheeks and he wiped at his nose with his sleeve. Wordlessly, he bound over to Castiel and grabbed him by the coat, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Cas’ arms quickly wrapped around Dean’s back.

“You stupid fucking…” Losing himself in sobs, Dean buried his face into Cas’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The crowd looked away, giving them what privacy they could.

“I don’t know how I can ever make up my absence to you,” Cas cried.

“You owe me a goddamn eternity, Cas. _Forever._ ”

Laughing, Castiel held Dean tighter. “For you, I would give more.”

Dean decided he was going to hold Cas to that and he let himself be overtaken by emotion. _Finally._ He thought. _I’m finally home._


End file.
